


in any universe, you are my dark star

by strangetowns



Category: Druck | SKAM (Germany)
Genre: (Brief) Pining, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, M/M, Quidditch, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 15:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19930219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetowns/pseuds/strangetowns
Summary: David’s head turns, then, and from across the entire quidditch pitch his eyes snag easily on Matteo’s.It should be absolutely impossible for him to find Matteo like this. He’s so high up, so far away. There’s so many people in this crowd. Sometimes when Matteo is surrounded by this many people he almost feels like he’s lost himself. And yet there’s this smile on David’s face. Small, almost private; but his eyes are warm, and genuine. Matteo sees every inch of it so clearly, even from this distance.His whole mouth has gone dry.-Matteo watches David from afar, and discovers that perhaps he's closer than he realized. Or: a Hogwarts AU.





	in any universe, you are my dark star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Crazyheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crazyheart/gifts).



> First of all - happy birthday, Camilla!!! This is a bit short and silly but I had a lot of fun writing it so I hope you have a lot of fun reading it, too!!!! I hope you have the best day ever today because you deserve it :']
> 
> And yes, okay, I know that Slytherin!David isn't exactly the most common sorting for his character but also, a Hogwarts AU is already incredibly self-indulgent as it is, so like, let me live for a hot second and sort my fave into my house, okay??
> 
> Unfortunately I think this fic is best enjoyed with some knowledge of the Harry Potter franchise beforehand, especially what the Hogwarts houses are and, like, a vague idea of what Quidditch is, since I didn't want to bog the fic down too much with world-building. But I'm going to stick a few helpful pointers in the endnotes in case you want to give it a stab without lore knowledge anyway!
> 
> Thank you as always to [Lyds](http://boxesfullofthoughts.tumblr.com/) and [Arin](http://arindwell.tumblr.com/) for being the best beta readers in the world. Title comes from "[Superposition](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxJhrwyn0M4)" by Young the Giant.

Carlos and Abdi are already in the Quidditch stands when Matteo gets there. Makes sense, all things considered. He thinks the game started something like fifteen minutes ago. Though he’s not totally sure about that. He doesn’t usually pay attention to this kind of thing; honestly it’s a miracle he managed to drag himself out here in the first place. It’s not typically his kind of scene. The crowd’s already whipped halfway to a frenzy, shouted voices and laughter and the occasional chant swelling together into one indistinguishable cacophony of noise that has the back of his neck prickling. 

But he is here for a reason. So he takes in a breath, sticks his hands in his pockets, and steels himself as he makes his way to his friends.

“Matteo!” Carlos yells when he approaches, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t expect to see you here!”

Matteo pushes his arm away easily. “What, a guy can’t support his house’s quidditch team when he wants?” he says in a monotone that probably fools no one.

“Fuck yeah! Hufflepuffs all the way!” Abdi shouts from his other side.

Well. Maybe it fooled one person.

“You here to root for our boy Jonas?” Carlos says, beaming.

Matteo tilts his head back. Sure enough, Jonas is soaring through the air, quaffle tucked under his arm as he dodges Slytherin players to make his way to the goalposts. Matteo’s gaze wanders over to the other end of the pitch. He can’t help himself. Can’t help but feel his breath catch in his throat a little when he spots David hovering by the goalposts - gloved hands gripping tightly around the handle of his broomstick, the vivid green of his quidditch robes striking against the smooth tan of his skin. His hair is pushed back out of his face, and there’s a pink flush of exertion in his cheeks. The look on his face is utterly serious, though. His eyes narrowing as Jonas approaches. He looks so calm up there, so assured. Matteo has seen him on a broomstick before, has always thought he was magnificent in the air. But this - this is something different altogether. David has always moved like he was born to fly, but right now he looks like he doesn’t even want to be anywhere else.

Matteo knows, because he’s seen that look on his face before. He knows he has.

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “Something like that.”

David’s head turns, then, and from across the entire quidditch pitch his eyes snag easily on Matteo’s.

It should be absolutely impossible for him to find Matteo like this. He’s so high up, so far away. There’s so many people in this crowd. Sometimes when Matteo is surrounded by this many people he almost feels like he’s lost himself. And yet there’s this smile on David’s face. Small, almost private; but his eyes are warm, and genuine. Matteo sees every inch of it so clearly, even from this distance.

His whole mouth has gone dry.

And then, just as quickly, David tears his gaze away from Matteo. Jonas has tossed the quaffle at the tallest of the three goalposts, the speed of the ball through the air dizzying to follow. David swoops up with his arm outstretched, moving so fast his entire body is a blur. With the tips of his fingers he nudges the quaffle out of the way, and as it falls to the ground he sweeps into a neat dive and scoops it up. He tosses the quaffle into the air once and catches it in both hands, grinning. In the end, Matteo isn’t sure if it’s the flying or the smile that tears the gasp out of his lungs, but it’s left his mouth before he can quite stop it, amidst a chorus of Hufflepuff groans around him.

“Wow,” he breathes.

He realizes that letting himself say that out loud was a mistake about a second too late, and about two seconds before Carlos turns toward him and says, incredulously, “ _ Wow _ ?”

“Oh my god,” Abdi says. “He’s rooting for the  _ snakes _ .”

Matteo digs his hands deeper into his pockets. “Shut up,” he mumbles. “No, I’m not.”

“Hm,” Carlos says, tapping a finger against his chin. “Maybe it’s one snake, specifically - ”

Before he can continue - before Matteo can vehemently deny the allegation into oblivion - the entire crowd has erupted into a violent uproar. Matteo whips his head toward the pitch. Leonie, the Slytherin seeker, is brandishing something small and golden in her fist. She’s caught the snitch.

And then the whistle sounds, and just like that, the game is over.

“Fuck,” Carlos groans, grabbing at his hair with both his hands.

“What the fuck, man, that was so quick,” Abdi complains.

And Matteo -

Matteo can’t make any noise at all, because the Slytherin team has crashed back to the ground, and David has just wrapped his arms around Leonie in a tight hug. Even from this distance, Matteo can see the laughter etched on his face. The incandescent joy.

He’s never actually felt a bludger crash into his chest, but he has to imagine it would feel something like this.

“Well, that was a fucking farce,” Carlos is saying, his voice sounding far away. “Let’s go get Jonas from the locker room and see if he wants to drown his sorrows in butterbeer.”

Matteo feels himself nod, feels his feet moving of their own accord. Trailing halfheartedly after the boys. At least that’s nothing new, at least it’s nothing that his friends will notice as out of the ordinary. He should try to pretend he’s paying attention to what’s going on, he knows, but he can’t. He just can’t.

How foolish he is, though. How stupid to be so hung up over one hug. David can hug whoever he wants. And Leonie is his housemate, and his teammate, and his friend. Matteo knows this. It was probably a celebration, nothing more. And even if it wasn’t - even if it wasn’t, that would be fine. It would be extraordinarily selfish for Matteo to think otherwise.

Especially since -

Since -

But this is the thing, isn’t it? Matteo is foolish and stupid and selfish, because deep down he knows he wants more than anything to make David that happy.

And even deeper down than that, he’s almost certain he never will. He’s just not the kind of person who makes other people happy.

Carlos and Abdi slow down in front of him, which is enough to startle him out of his reverie. They’ve reached the locker rooms. Jonas is waiting for them outside, leaning against the opposite wall and his hair damp from the shower.

“Fucking Slytherins, man,” Carlos says as they slap their palms together in greeting.

“Ah, we’ll get them next time,” Jonas sighs, ever the good sport. “I got in a few goals today, so I’m happy.”

“Dude, you’re our best chaser for sure,” Abdi nods.

“Yeah, nice job,” Matteo says, honestly. He knows how hard Jonas works, is glad that he’s happy with what he’s done today even amidst all the other bullshit feelings warring in his chest.

“Wanna go out for drinks tonight?” Carlos asks.

Jonas cracks his neck with a loud groan. “Sure, I could use one,” he says. “Matteo, you coming?”

“Um…” Matteo hesitates. “Should stay to study. Bit behind with my Charms homework.”

Jonas shrugs. That’s one thing Matteo likes about him, how he knows when not to push Matteo into something. He wraps his arms around Carlos and Abdi’s shoulders. “All right, then, boys,” he says. “Good luck with studying, Matteo.”

And with that, they’re gone.

Matteo turns back to the locker room doors. He slumps against the wall, lets his head lean back until the back of his skull is touching the stone. He shuffles a foot against the floor, once, twice.

He waits.

Eventually, the Slytherin locker room door opens.

Matteo straightens at the sound. He half-expects the full team to emerge - it would be his fucking luck - but it’s David who’s behind the door, just David as he steps out into the hallway and meets Matteo’s eyes and smiles softly.

“Hey,” he says.

Matteo swallows. “Hey.”

“You came to the game,” David says. It’s not a question.

Matteo nods, anyway. He doesn’t quite trust himself with words right now. David is a few steps away, and from this close Matteo can almost smell the sweat on him. He’s still in his quidditch robes, still wearing those leather gloves on his hands. In the small space of this hallway it’s impossible to ignore how alive and real he feels, his eyes glowing with warmth and happiness. If losing to Slytherin is what it takes for David to look like this, Matteo thinks he’d gladly lose every day of his life.

“So?” David says. “What did you think?”

He always asks Matteo that question. He always sounds like he wants to know the answer.

And Matteo never knows what to say.

“Good,” Matteo says. “You - you were really good.”

David smiles. “Don’t let your housemates hear you say that,” he says. “They’ll take it as the worst kind of betrayal.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Matteo says. He’s only half-joking.

David laughs, anyway, and casts his gaze to the ground. “Do you…” Matteo watches as he bites his lip. “Do you want to meet in the Astronomy tower tonight? To work on our star charts?”

They’ve been meeting every weekend for the past month to work on their star charts. Still, Matteo’s heart tumbles over itself in his chest, as if he hadn’t expected the invitation. And hell, maybe part of him really hadn’t. Maybe that part of him kind of can’t believe in next times.

Maybe he wishes it did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Okay.”

“Okay,” David says. “See you later, then.”

He smiles at Matteo, one last time, and turns, and walks down the hallway.

And Matteo watches him go.

-

It’s three hours before midnight by the time Matteo makes his way to the top of the astronomy tower. As he emerges onto the rooftop the cool night breeze whispers gently against his face in a way that sends a pleasant shiver down his spine. He can feel David’s presence before he sees it, the softly glowing orbs hanging in midair a clear product of his typically careful wandwork, the soft warble of a song playing from an old tinny radio - David’s radio, Matteo knows - playing somewhere in the background. And then he sees David, of course, and something jolts painfully in his chest at the same time as it slides easily back into place. He’s leaning his forearms against the parapet at the other end of the rooftop, face tilted toward the garden below him. Even from this angle it’s hard to miss the fondness in his eyes, as he watches over the school grounds.

David loves Hogwarts. It’s one of the first things Matteo learned about him. And honestly, watching him love Hogwarts makes Matteo love it more, too.

David turns his head and smiles at Matteo. “Hey,” he says. The sleeves of his robes are rolled up to his elbows, and his green and silver tie is hanging loosely around his neck. He looks comfortable. He looks relaxed.

It’s kind of strange. In class he’s always pretty well put together, has always been the kind of student to turn in his homework when he’s supposed to and show up to class on time. But stiff, too. As if he’s perpetually aware he’s being watched. Matteo’s only ever seen him like this, willingly disheveled, up here.

He’s seen him like this a lot of times, though.

“I forgot my star chart,” Matteo says. It’s the same thing he said the last time they met up here.

“That’s okay,” David says.

Which is the same thing he said last time, too.

“I have something for you, though,” Matteo says.

David raises his eyebrows. “You know my birthday’s not for another three months, right?”

“I know,” Matteo says honestly. “I just… I saw something that made me think of you. Is all.”

David turns, hands gripping at the railing behind him. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s see it.”

Matteo reaches into his bag and pulls out the postcard he’d seen in the store the last time he was home. It’s a muggle picture, so not much, nothing compared to a wizard photograph with moving shapes and people living whole lives beneath the glossy surface. Still. Matteo remembers what he’d felt the first time he’d seen it. How it’d been so beautiful he’d almost forgotten how to breathe, for an arrested moment. How it flooded his heart with peace at the same time. He hadn’t known what it meant, what it was supposed to represent. All he knew was what it made him feel.

It made him feel the same way he feels when David smiles at him.

David reaches out and takes the postcard from Matteo’s hand. He holds it to the light, gazing intently at it. He’s very still, for a moment. Matteo’s heart clatters in his chest at the sight.

And then slowly, carefully, he brings his fingertips to the surface of the card. He traces the swirls of blue and yellow with his thumb. There’s something gentle about his touch, something almost reverent. Something unbearably tender. And now Matteo’s heart swells like an ache.

“What’s this?” David asks in a hushed voice.

“Starry Night,” Matteo says. “By Vincent Van Gogh. He’s - he was a muggle painter.”

David brings the postcard to his chest, pressing it there with the tips of his fingers. He closes his eyes.

“Thank you, Matteo,” he says, quietly.

So he gets it. He actually gets it.

And yet part of Matteo must have known that he would, right? He doesn’t trust much inside his own head, but he trusts that he knows David. Surely he can allow himself that much.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Matteo says, throat tight.

“Yeah, I do.” David steps close to Matteo. Before Matteo knows it, David’s hugging him, hands coming up to rest lightly against his shoulder blades. He’s warm, is the first thing Matteo registers. So warm. He can almost imagine himself being completely surrounded by that warmth, swaddled in this unspeakable comfort. At the thought he feels the last vestiges of his restraint withering away, as he presses his face into David’s shoulder and breathes.

And then David steps back, and he’s looking at the ground, abashed. And Matteo’s arms are empty, and so is his head, and so is his heart. He can feel himself falling, crashing back into reality. A reality where hugs don’t mean anything at all, unless they happen to other people.

The thing is, he’s kind of used to that by now.

He sinks to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest. He looks down, not able to bring himself to look up at David, even though he can feel his eyes on him, even though the silence between them tears viciously at his lungs. He doesn’t want to explain himself. He can’t. He doesn’t have the words.

Another moment passes. And then David sits next to him, shoulder brushing against Matteo’s.

And he doesn’t ask for an explanation. He doesn’t say anything at all. He just waits.

Matteo’s throat hurts.

And now he’s laughing, even though he doesn’t really feel like it.

God. He really can’t stand his own ludicrousness, sometimes.

“So,” Matteo says. “You and Leonie, huh?”

He doesn’t particularly want to say that, either. But he has to. It’s better to get it over with sooner rather than later. Better to just know. And he’s always really hated not knowing.

There’s a brief pause. Matteo can’t bring himself to look at David. Not right now.

“What?” David says finally.

Matteo shrugs. “Saw you guys after the game. You looked… happy.”

David shifts against him. “Oh.”

“I’m…” Matteo swallows, hard. “I’m happy for you. Really, I am.”

He really does mean that. His own foolishness aside - nothing is as important as David’s happiness. 

It’s not.

“Matteo.”

The way David says his name, all quiet and serious. Almost urgent. Matteo can’t ignore that, can’t do anything but look up and meet his eyes.

And David doesn’t look away.

“We’re just friends,” he says.

These three words seem like too little to pin his hopes on. But he’s done more with far less before. All of a sudden his ribs feel fragile and light, as if spun from glass. “Yeah?”

“She did ask me to the Yule Ball, as friends,” David says. “And I told her no.”

If it weren’t for the steadiness of David’s gaze, if it weren’t for how slow and careful he says each word the way he always does, Matteo’s chest might have shattered from how hard his heart is beating. No one is surprised, he thinks hazily, that the one thing that’s keeping him together right now is the sound of David’s voice.

All things considered, this is nothing new.

“Why?” Matteo can only ask.

“Because…”

It’s only now that David sounds hesitant, almost unsure of himself. Something in Matteo aches to see David glance down to the ground.

“Because I was hoping someone else would ask me.”

He takes in a deep breath, and looks back up at Matteo. Looks right into his eyes.

“He hasn’t, though,” David says, very softly.

And Matteo’s breath sticks in his throat.

How strange it is, that David always finds his gaze so easily no matter where they are. Across a crowded quidditch pitch; on the other side of the dining hall; mere inches apart, their faces so close together Matteo can hardly breathe. How curious that Matteo gets the same thrill in the pit of his stomach at the feeling of David’s eyes on him, no matter how many times their eyes meet, no matter the distance between them. How peculiar that he wants to feel it, every single time. Wants to revel in the feeling of being seen.

Because David sees Matteo as clearly as Matteo sees him. Matteo can see the truth of that, now, in his shining eyes.

“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?” Matteo whispers.

He swears to god the brightness in David’s eyes looks like shooting stars.

David puts a hand on Matteo’s jaw. It’s a feather-soft touch, so gentle, so light. But Matteo has never felt anything so sharply, each point of contact against his skin a tiny jolt that tingles down his neck, to the tips of fingers, down to the very root of him. As if Matteo is a pool of water, and David’s touch is a ripple that trembles through all of him.

He’s not sure who moves first. They both lean in, maybe; they both rest their foreheads together. He closes his eyes, overwhelmed. 

And David kisses him.

And now Matteo sees stars behind his closed eyelids, too.

David’s hand slides to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. The feeling of it makes Matteo gasp into David’s mouth, and David opens his mouth too. Breathes Matteo in. Swallows his exhales down.

Matteo is certain he has never felt so warm.

David’s thumb brushes against his ear. “Is this answer enough?” He murmurs against his mouth.

Matteo reaches up, clinging at David’s robes. “Tell me again.”

And David does.

**Author's Note:**

> Some HP pointers:
> 
> -Hogwarts is a school for witches and wizards somewhere in the UK, probably Scotland or something like that. All the students are sorted into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Hufflepuff and Slytherin are obviously the relevant ones here, and all you really need to know about them for the purpose of this fic is that their mascots are the badgers and the snakes respectively.  
> -Quidditch is a co-ed sport played on flying broomsticks. The rules are... kinda like soccer/football? You have a quaffle that three chasers try to throw through the goalposts to score points, a bludger that the beaters aka the defense try to hit at the other team to throw them off, and a keeper to protect the goalposts.  
> -Muggle-born students, like Matteo, are students who were born to Muggle aka non-wizarding parents.  
> -If any other questions come up feel free to let me know!
> 
> Obligatory reminder that I'm still taking [prompts](https://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com/post/186130080242/gonna-try-this-taking-prompts-thing-for-real-this) as I slowly chip away at my bigger wips, and obligatory plug for my [tumblr](http://canonicallyanxious.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/canonlyanxious)!
> 
> And that's all I've got! Thank you for reading!


End file.
